


you could be the king (but watch the queen conquer)

by airspaniel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cock Slapping, Comeplay, Creampie, Crying, Edgeplay, F/M, Femdom, God i hate that tag, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Punishment, Scratching, Sharing Clothes, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:18:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9917930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel
Summary: She pulls away, sits back on her heels and watches. His cock bucks against thin air, the long lines of him drawn taut and arched over the steel of the chair, and he pants and pants andwhinesand doesn’t come.“So pretty,” she says again, running gentle hands up the backs of his calves. “So good for me, baby.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently Isabella Yang Style includes restraints, praise, and orgasm control; and requires a safeword. She is the femdom of my heart, and I've... uh... I've been watching a lot of edging videos. I honestly have no other explanation for this filth. A million thanks/apologies to @dance_across for the betaing/enabling (betanabling?) and for being awesome all the time. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title via Nicki Minaj, because I had to. I HAD TO.

The D-rings on the leather cuffs clink against the metal chair as Isabella fastens them together underneath the seat, making JJ gently immobile. He’s naked, bare ass against the cold metal; and it can’t be comfortable, but he looks more relaxed than he has in days.

Isabella smiles. “Test it,” she says, and he obligingly yanks at his bonds, proving that while he can move his hands back and forth enough to grab the legs of the chair, and up enough that he can almost, _almost_ brush his thumbs against the outsides of his thighs, he’s not going anywhere until she lets him.

“Do you want the blindfold?” she asks, and it’s kind of a mean question since she went to the trouble of dressing up. She has lots of expensive lingerie, lacy things from Victoria’s Secret and Agent Provocateur, but those are for her; because she loves how decadent she feels laid out in satin and lace, a confection to be savored. But nothing gets JJ hotter than the sight of her in a pair of his boxers, and she’s happy to indulge him today. His Team Canada jacket completes the look, sleeves pushed up to her elbows and the zipper undone, teasing glimpses of her breasts as she moves.

He shakes his head no, just like she expected. She steps into his space, straddling one of his legs and fists her hand in his hair, making him look up at her face.

“Use your words, Jean-Jacques, or I’ll get it.”

“No,” he says, “no blindfold, please.”

She brushes her fingers through his hair, soothing the rough touch. “All right, love.” He practically purrs, pushing up into her hand. She leans in and steals a quick kiss, pulling away when he tries for something deeper. “Just look at me, then.”

The slate tile is cold under her knees as she slides down his body, nails raking red trails over his chest and sides until she can dig them into his hips and pull him forward in the chair. He braces his shoulders against the back and stretches his torso out in a long line for her, showing off his chest and abs, and Isabella rewards him with a kiss to his thigh.

“So pretty, baby,” she murmurs, and kisses further up until the tight, soft weight of his balls brushes her cheek. He inhales sharply, and she turns her face into the touch, nuzzling his hard cock. He’s already exposed, foreskin pulled back to reveal where he’s flushed dark and dripping, and Isabella can’t help taking a taste. She flicks her tongue around the head, little kitten licks that make his hands clench against the seat of the chair, and as soon as she’s licked him clean he’s all wet and leaking again.

“Are you that close already?” she asks, and JJ clenches his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, so quiet, and Isabella presses her hands against the insides of his thighs, forcing his legs wide.

“Didn’t ask you to be sorry,” she says, kissing the base of his dick. “I asked if you were close.”

He chokes on a groan, trying to hold it in. _“Yes,_ Bella…”

“Look at me.” She pulls back enough to give him a second to focus, and when his eyes meet hers they’re nearly black, stormy blue-grey lost in arousal. Her hand skims up his length, soft and dry, and his breath hitches, so she does it again just to feel him shiver.

“Keep telling me,” she says, and sucks the head of his cock into her mouth. She works him slow, sliding her lips down to kiss her fist, wrapped around him tight. Spit makes the movement slick, lets her slide her hand up to fan her fingers over his glans, tongue dipping in between enough to tease and keep things wet. She hums happily as she sucks, and the cuffs rattle helplessly against the chair.

“Close!” JJ cries. “Bella, ‘m close, ‘m close…” He’s panting, hips bucking, and she can feel the way he thickens and leaks in her mouth, the hot pulse against her tongue.

She pulls away, sits back on her heels and watches. His cock bucks against thin air, the long lines of him drawn taut and arched over the steel of the chair, and he pants and pants and _whines_ and doesn’t come.

“So pretty,” she says again, running gentle hands up the backs of his calves. “So good for me, baby.”

His hips drop to the chair again, cock still red and hard and wet, a shiny pearl-white line of precome running down the side. She swipes it away with a finger, admiring the way it looks against her skin and making sure JJ is present enough to see her admiring. She licks it away slowly, sucking her fingers as lovingly as she just sucked his dick, and JJ moans.

Isabella looks up at him through her lashes and leans back even further, propping her free hand behind her as she arches, still licking at her fingers. The jacket falls open completely, baring her to the waist.

“Mmm… you taste so good,” she says, a parting kiss to her own fingertips. She drops her wet fingers to tease at her nipples, flicking back and forth, painting them both spit-slick. Her blush goes all the way to her waist when she’s aroused, and she can feel it now, turning her porcelain pale skin pink and hot, but she keeps her eyes locked on her fiancé’s. “I love it when you get wet for me.”

“Bella,” he breathes, straining forward in the chair. She smiles, staying out of reach, and slides her hand down her belly. She strokes herself over the boxers she’s wearing, pushes her fingers just inside until the heather-grey material is soaked through with her slick, and JJ gasps like he’s been punched.

“I’m all wet for you, too,” Isabella says, leaning back up into his space and dragging her damp fingertips under his nose. JJ growls and lunges for her hand, sucking her fingers into his mouth like he’s starving. She lets him, laughing softly at his eagerness.

Her other hand finds his cock again, stroking it gently down, then up, then down, then cupping his balls and squeezing, pressing them up against his body. He nearly chokes himself on her fingers, and she pulls them out to let him talk if he wants to, but he just shudders and clenches his teeth together.

“Are you close?” she asks, teasing him with her nails, just this side of ticklish. He nods his head frantically, but that’s not good enough. “Use your words, JJ.”

He whines and shakes and opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a low, breathless _ah, ah, ah…_

She pulls her hand back and slaps his cock, enough to make a sharp snap sound, to make his cock bounce against his belly, and he groans deep in his chest but doesn’t say anything.

So Isabella slips her hand back and pushes two of her knuckles against his perineum. Hard.

JJ screams when he comes, fucking the air. Isabella isn’t even touching him anymore as his cock jerks, spitting ropes of pearly come all over his thighs and the chair and the slate tile floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _fuck, I’m sorry,_ ” he chants weakly, eyes shut tight and head dropped forward, embarrassed. His face is as red as his dick, and Isabella is so in love with this gorgeous, ridiculous man.

“Baby…” she says, petting his hair back. “Baby, look at me.”

He does, long dark lashes wet and clumped together. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and Isabella leans up and kisses him, long and sweet.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you tried your best.” His lip quivers against hers like he might cry for real, and she kisses him harder, pushes herself up until she’s in his lap, straddling one of his thighs. Her breasts press against his sweat-slicked chest, and his dick is still mostly hard against her hip. She grinds forward a little bit to make his breath catch, and bites his lip when it does.

“I can make it up to you,” he says, tugging his cuffs enough to touch her leg. “I want to, Bella, untie me and I’ll make you feel so good.”

Isabella laughs and rolls her hips against his thigh. “I don’t need to untie you for that, baby. I’m not done playing yet.”

“Bella, please.” His thumb strokes up the inside of her knee, and she stands up, steps back.

“Hush, Jean-Jacques,” she orders. The boxers are sticking to her uncomfortably, fabric bunched up and soaked, and so she pushes them down, leaving herself naked except for his jacket. She’s wet; the underwear drags a slick smear down her thigh when she takes them off, and she can tell by the low sound that escapes JJ’s throat that he can _see_ it. He licks his lips like he’s dying for another taste, and that gives her an idea.

She straddles his leg again, humming in pleasure at the way her dripping sex slides against the thick muscle of his thigh, hard and hot and perfect to grind herself against. The boxers are still wet in her hand, and she pushes them up against JJ’s face, moaning at the way he inhales deeply, burying his face in them.

“Open up,” she says, and he does, letting her push the fabric into his mouth, gagging him with it. His eyes roll back and his hips buck forward, his renewed erection shoving against her hip like he hadn’t just come a few minutes ago.

Isabella rocks her hips harder, a little faster, one arm wrapped around his shoulders to steady herself while her other hand pinches and twists at her nipples. “You like this, baby,” she says, not at all a question. “Like me using you, playing with you, _oh..._ Making you be my good boy.”

He groans in response, cuffs rattling against the chair as he struggles to touch her. She nibbles at his earlobe, sucks on it, flicks her tongue over the shell of his ear just to feel him shudder against her.

“I like it, too,” she murmurs, shifting up enough to work her clit against his hipbone, crying out softly at the sharper sensation as the pleasure builds into something hot and urgent. “I love it, I love _you_ , baby, you’re gonna make me come…”

JJ makes a hungry sound around the makeshift gag and rolls his hips against hers, a counterpoint that gives her just enough pressure. She comes hard, back arched, nails digging into his back and his scalp; and he keeps his leg pressed up against her, letting her ride it as she draws out her orgasm.

“Mmm…” Isabella presses her face to his neck, panting against his collarbone as she comes down. She scritches her fingernails through the buzzed hair at the back of his head, threads her hands into the longer strands at the top, holding him close. “Thank you, love.”

His response is muffled, and she remembers the gag. Laughing, she turns her head until she can bite the underwear, then pulls them out of his mouth with her teeth, tossing them away somewhere. A line of drool runs from the corner of his mouth, and she wipes it away with her thumb as she kisses him. His cock taps against her belly, drooling a bit, too; leaving a shiny wet patch against her skin.

She shifts until she’s straddling his lap, until it would only take a slight lift of her hips to get his cock inside her. He whines into their kiss, bucks up, but she’s not going to give in that easily.

“What do you want, JJ?” she asks, lips brushing against his as she speaks. “Tell me.”

“I wanna fuck you,” he says, kissing her again. “I wanna be inside you, Bella, please let me.”

Isabella hums thoughtfully and shifts her hips forward, sliding her pussy up his shaft and back down, teasing him with her slick folds. He sighs in relief and shudders under her. She tightens her hands in his hair and _pulls._

“No,” she says.

“Bella, _please!_ ” he begs, and it’s a pretty sound, but he really shouldn’t be talking back. She keeps her grip on his hair with one hand and drops the other to scratch down his chest.

“I said no, Jean-Jacques.” Her resolve wavers at the look on his face, desperate and defeated. She slides her hand down between them, slipping in between his belly and his cock to keep his length pressed tight against her sex. “Make me come like this and I’ll consider it.”

 _“Baby…_ ” JJ groans against her throat, mouth open and wet, his ragged breaths hot against her collarbones.

“Be good,” she says, tilting her head to the side so he can sink his teeth in, lick and suck over the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. She teases herself with his cock, letting the tip slide over her clit and press _just_ inside, just enough that she can feel the stretch before rolling her hips back, grinding against his shaft.

He’s panting again, making little choked noises that punch out of his throat every time her clit rubs against the spot right under the head of his dick. She feels light and shivery, better and higher with every twist of her hips, but at this rate he’ll go off before she does.

“I’m close,” he gasps, as if on cue, and she clenches her hand around the base of his cock, holding him in check.

“Don’t, JJ,” she warns, “Don’t you dare.”

He drops his head back against the chair, face contorted with effort. “Bella, please, I can’t…”

“Wait for me,” she orders, bucking her hips harder, but she can feel it when he gives in, as his body shudders against her and she knows what’s happening even before she feels the hot splash of his come against her belly and thighs.

And once might be an understandable accident, but twice is disobedience.

She rears back on his lap, her pleasure forgotten as she closes her hands around JJ’s dick and proceeds to teach him a lesson. She milks him through his orgasm, stroking hard and fast with her right hand, slicking her left hand in a circle against the head of his cock, and he _screams._

 _“Stop!_ Bella, fuck, _stop, please,_ oh my god!” he yells, thrashing against his bonds, but she keeps up the pace, hard and fast and steady.

“You know what to say to make me stop,” she says, and when he doesn’t safeword, she continues.

He swears a blue streak in Quebecois, tongue thick around the French syllables, and she thinks (not for the first time) how funny and Catholic it is when he swears like this, but she doesn’t stop. “Bella, please, _fuck,_ please, it hurts, _it hurts,_ oh my god, _please stop…_ ”

“You know what to say to make me stop,” she repeats, and he drops his chin to his chest and sobs, but he still doesn’t safeword. His cock is starting to go soft in her hands, the foreskin drawing back up over the head, and she slows down a little; spits on the tip to keep things wet.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me, Jean-Jacques,” she says, stroking him gentler now, but insistently, not letting up. “You said you wanted to put this inside me."

“Bella, _I can’t…_ ” He sniffles, cheeks wet and his chest heaving with every touch of her hands, like she’s pulling the air out of him through his dick.

She smiles, leans in to kiss his temple, licking the salt trace of tears from his skin. “You can, baby. I know you can. I believe in you.”

“Oh _god…_ ”

“That’s it, just let me…” Isabella keeps her hands moving, one on his shaft, the other sliding through the come on his belly, and then switching; keeping her touch steady and slick. He’s still crying, heaving sobs that make his entire body shake.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” he repeats like a mantra, more breath than words. But his cock twitches in Isabella’s hands, starts to fill out again. She strokes him faster.

“Shh, baby,” Isabella soothes, and he obeys, biting his lips together to keep from making noise. Tears are still leaking from the corners of his eyes, which are clenched tightly shut, but his breathing has changed, shifted into something slightly less pained; slightly more aroused.

She stops for just a moment, long enough to turn herself around on his lap, her back to his chest, and she can’t tell if the sound he makes is more relief or disappointment. Maybe he’s not even sure. She loops an arm back around his neck, and leans her head against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” she says, using her other hand to guide his cock into position between her legs. He’s still not all the way hard, but he’s hard enough for now. “I’ve got you, JJ,” she repeats, and sinks down on him, one slow push until her ass is against his thighs.

He shudders and mouths at the back of her neck, her shoulder; not quite kisses and not quite bites, but open sloppy drags of lips and teeth and tongue. She tilts her head to let him, rocking her hips back and forth, clenching around him to make him hiss, and to feel his pulse as he stiffens up inside her. It’s slow, so slow and so wet, and Isabella wants to drag it out forever.

“Oh, yes,” she sighs, melting back against him, using her arm around his neck as leverage to pull herself up and down his body. His hips jerk once, involuntary, not enough to be called a thrust but enough to shove his cock against her g-spot, making her moan. “That’s it, baby, just like that.”

“Bella…” he whines, muffled against her neck, pushing his face up into her hair, then scenting down the line of her throat to bury his face in the collar of his jacket. The nylon is damp with their mingled sweat, the insignia on the back rubbing rough against his chest. Isabella isn’t going to let him wash it before his next competition. He’s going to put it on, and the heat of his warm up will smell like their sex, and he’ll never again be anxious about where he belongs.

He belongs right here, hard between her thighs. He belongs to _her_.

 _“Fuck,_ JJ,” she says, sliding her free hand down to rub at her clit as she rides him in earnest. She’s close, all of a sudden, thinking about him skating with her marks all over him, where no one else can see. She wonders if anyone else would be able to smell her on him, sweet and feminine and _possessive,_ and oh fuck, _oh fuck..._

She cries out when she comes, throws her head back so hard she could bruise his collarbone and shakes through it, nails digging into his back with one hand and furiously working herself with the other. JJ groans, deep and desperate, the vibrations of it traveling down her spine and making her feel wild as she soaks his thighs. His hips buck up, grinding his cock into her as she convulses around him, and he’s so hard now - so hard and hot and _ready_.

But he’s waiting this time, he’s being so good.

“Do it,” Isabella orders, reaching her hand down to cup his balls and press them up against his shaft, doing her best to match her movement to the thrusting of his hips. “Do it, JJ, come for me, fill me up…”

He’s too worked up to make words, but he grunts against her shoulder, rhythmic sounds getting louder and sharper the harder he bucks up into her until he chokes, goes silent and still and tense against her, holding his breath.

His cock twitches hard inside her, floods her with heat, and he sobs her name when he exhales.

“Good boy,” she purrs, satisfied. “There’s my good boy.”

He hides his face in her hair, shuddering. The side of her neck is wet with his tears. She lets him have another moment; reaches back to hold him close. His lap is a mess, their mingled come leaking onto the chair and probably the floor as he softens inside her; slips free. He gasps when they’re no longer connected, and shivers hard enough to make the cuffs rattle.

Isabella turns her face towards his. “You want me to untie you, baby?”

JJ nods, dragging his nose over her cheek. She’s not gonna make him use his words right now. Not after all that.

“Okay,” she says. “Kiss me first.”

He does, an uncoordinated press of lips; a shallow dip of tongue. Like he’s too worn out to do it properly. Isabella laughs softly into his mouth, holds him steady with a hand on his cheek; guiding him.

She leans forward, bending at the waist enough to reach the quick release on the knotted rope holding the cuffs together. Even when his hands are free, JJ doesn’t move at first, so Isabella takes his right hand and brings it up in front of her, unbuckles the cuff and lets it fall to the ground. She rubs his wrist gently, up his forearm, massaging out the stiffness. She wraps his arm around her waist and gives his left hand the same treatment, taking it in her own when she’s done and pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. His arms tighten around her, and he hums in pleasure and exhaustion.

“How do you feel now, love?” Isabella asks. “Was that what you needed?”

“Mm…” he starts, then clears his throat and tries again. “Mm-hmm”

Isabella stands up so she can turn to face him. He’s wrecked, covered in sweat and spit and come, pink bands of skin around his wrists and scratch marks on his chest and sides. He looks _blissful._ He’s beautiful.

He shivers in the cool of the room, and Isabella shrugs out of the jacket; drapes it around his shoulders to wrap him up until he can stand. He curls into the fabric, burying his nose in the collar and sighing happily.

Something dark and contented settles in Isabella’s chest, seeing him like this. “Is that better, baby?”

He nods, pulling the jacket tighter around himself.

“And what do we say to people who give us nice things?” Isabella asks, tipping his chin up so his eyes meet hers.

JJ shivers, and it has nothing to do with cold. _“Thank you,_ thank you, Bella… thank you.”

She smiles and kisses him, a claim and a reward. “You’re very welcome, love.”


End file.
